


Painted Soldier

by ivypixies



Category: The 100, cw - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Grounder Bellamy Blake, Grounder Culture, Grounder Octavia Blake, Grounder wedding, Mention of Blood and Wounds, Mention of Death, Sky Princess, light gore in battle, mature language, potential nsfw content, potential smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 03:56:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14947121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivypixies/pseuds/ivypixies
Summary: Was it an angel? The girl with the blonde hair and blue eyes who seeming fell from heaven? Certainly not, given the fact that this angel had waged war upon him and his people. As Heda, Bellamy was destined to keep the peace and protect his people. The leaders of the Skaikru and Trikru must be joined in order to maintain this fragile peace. Cue wedding bells!





	1. I don't know what to do without you- Bellamy

The day the people fell from the sky was the day Bellamy's life changed for good. Since childhood, his main concern was for taking care of his sister and eventually claiming the throne as Heda. His tribe, Trikru waged war against these intruders as soon as their boots hit the soil. It was a merciless battle, bred from land claims and arrogance. Skaikru had advanced warfare, but Trikru had been born and bred to tread the warpath. After much bloodshed and loss, Skaikru and Trikru decided to unite as one, to call off the feud in order to save the lives of many. 

 

The way to unite the two peoples was decidedly to unite their leaders, a symbol of wellbeing. At the time, Bellamy had just been chosen Heda. The prior successor, a woman named Mira, had died at the hands of a rogue grounder which only brought further turmoil to the village. Nonetheless, Bellamy swore to do anything to protect his people, in life or in death. So when he met with the leader of Skaikru, he expected a silent and somber agreement. Marriage had never been in Bellamy's viewpoint. He'd always assumed that if he took the role of Heda, he'd simply lead alone. However, the moment his gaze met the girl with eyes the color of where she fell from, the perspective shifted. Surely, she was beautiful. But that wasn’t all. Her hands fluttered about the neckline of her dress, as if calming anxieties. She had a kind smile and a sharp tongue; as was seen when her mother, Abbey had to tell her off for sassing a guard. 

 

Other than the Skaikru oddities, the meeting was standard. The flamekeeper announced that their marriage ceremony would take place in a month's time and include both Skaikru and Trikru traditions. In the time leading to their unity, Bellamy was not permitted to see or even speak with Clarke, as to preserve the tradition one had with a betrothed. He'd never said a word to his bride-to-be, yet was expected to marry her. Rather than complaining, Bellamy merely put on a brave face and followed through with the plans.

 

The day of the unity approached rapidly, until the morning was finally upon them. Bellamy stood before a gleaming sheet of metal, examining his blurred reflection in the material. His image was warped and unclear, but he could see enough. In common grounder fashion, Bellamy wore a large cloak of precious furs for his wedding. He was clean shaven, and his face painted traditionally. Three black swirls on his left cheek, and a stripped pattern on his right. The swirls represented the family he already possessed; the grounders. The right represented the family he would receive; the sky people. The line painted from his chin to collarbone represented the new bond he would maintain between the nations. 

 

The two leaders would meet in the grand hall and celebrate their engagement by drinking from the same chalice. The chalice was a fancy thing, passed down from generations of marriages. This was the one thing that linked Heda to the commonwealth; all lips shared the same cup. Bellamy would then remove Clarke's chip in her neck that served as birth control on the arc. The machinery was most likely fried after breaking through the stratosphere at such high velocity. However, the removal was a marriage tradition amongst the Skaikru that he promised to honor. The couple would then exchange gifts they had picked for one another, and be off to a treetop fort to speak vows, another Skaikru tradition. Bellamy sighed deeply, squeezing the small box that contained Clarke's gift and making his way down towards the grand hall to begin the ceremony. The exchanging of gifts represented good intentions and care. After speaking to both Abbey, Clarke’s mother, and Raven, a friend of Clarke’s, Bellamy found the perfect gift. Four small pots of paint, all created from his own skills. He ground up berries and roots to create a red shade, and a blue shade. He then shaved charcoal and mixed in berries to create a black paste. Finally, He took flower petals and dried them to grind up into the yellow shade. The small pots were wrapped neatly, alongside a paintbrush that Raven had helped him fashion out of horse’s hair and metal from the dropship. He carried the gift tightly beneath one arm, pushing open the wide doors to the hall.


	2. I don't know where to put my hands-Clarke

“There’s no way.” Clarke muttered under her breath as the flamekeeper held up a corset and bodice. 

The man had asked her to choose either, as it was up to her for the wedding.

 

“Neither. I mean, I want to be able to breathe.” She said stubbornly. 

 

However, in the end, her wishes were null. She wore a tight corset, just about the most uncomfortable thing she’s ever worn. Her breaths were short and shallow as she slipped the cornflower blue dress on. The fabric was soft and the neckline plunging, so as to reveal her neck for the ceremonial control removal. 

 

Less than an hour later, Clarke was all dressed up for the ceremony. Rather than face paint, Clarke wore an intricate hairstyle. Her blonde locks were twisted up into several half braids, pulled behind and twisted around other unbraided strands. The woman who had fashioned the masterpiece was a young grounder named Anya. She had quick and skillful hands, but a stern look about her. However, when she finished Clarke’s hair, the grounder gave her the slightest of smiles and a nod. 

 

“Be good to our Heda.” She said simply before ducking out of the tent.

 

The words stuck with her, even as she walked down towards the final meeting hall where her fate would be sealed. Be good to him. How could she be good to a man she’d only just met? She clutched the book in her hand, an anchor to keep her mind from spiralling. 

 

The gift she had brought to the wedding was an old history book. The pages were yellowed with time, but the words were left in tact. Prior to the wedding, Clarke had gotten the chance to sit down with Bellamy’s family and discuss the procedures. Bellamy only had one living family member, a sister named Octavia. She was strong and beautiful, and commander of the grounder army. Octavia spoke about how Bellamy loved to read, and he was especially fascinated with the history of their land. The book was of the old world, a place they called Europe. Many battles and wars were contained within the book. Books raised a high prices after the nuclear war, as such artifacts were mostly destroyed. However, after the second wave of arc civilians fell to Earth, they brought many of said artifacts; including the historical text Clarke decided to gift to her betrothed. 

 

She was led through winding halls by Octavia and Abbey. Octavia led the way with the two Skaikru following close behind. As they reached a particularly wide corridor, Clarke was greeted by the cheers and shouts of what seemed like hundreds of people. As she rounded the corner, she found her guess to be accurate. They flanked the walls of the passageway, smiling and cheering. Both Skaikru and Trikru, in unity all calling for her. The grounders had warned her about the intensity of ceremonial praise. It’d been a long time since they had such a grand event, and the people were starved of celebration. Children atop the shoulders of men shrieked and waved as she passed, and woman reached out to touch Clarke’s hair. Their hands were gentle, a simply caress of her locks as she passed.

 

“Sign of good fortune.” Octavia murmured in Clarke’s ear. “On the day of your wedding, the more people who touch your braids, the more happy souls you have guiding you today.” 

 

“And the unhappy?” Clarke questioned, catching sight of John Murphy, a fellow member of the 100, shaking his head as if in disapproval.

 

Octavia opened her mouth to answer but was cut off by the flamekeeper, who grasped Clarke’s arm and pulled her towards the aisle where she would soon join Bellamy. Grounder weddings were quite different than arc weddings. On the arc, two individuals would be paired, and they would sign a contract. The birth control chip would be removed from the neck of the female, and that sealed the deal. A small party would follow, with a couple of close friends and some music. Food remained the same, due to rations, and they both simply wore their normal clothes. 

 

 

On Earth, however, the bonding of the individuals was viewed as far more spiritual. The two would drink from the same cup, embrace in front of all the people, exchange gifts, then go off in private to recite vows. Clarke would wash Bellamy’s face paint off, and Bellamy would unbraid her hair before heading back into the crowd, where the real party began. Between music, dancing and tons of food, it was clear that grounders knew how to party. Clarke had yet to witness a true grounder celebration, so tonight would be both new and terrifying.

 

“Skaikru, please approach the stage.” Octavia said, loud enough to be heard over the crowd’s murmurs. 

 

As she climbed the makeshift wooden steps, the group of onlookers pushed into the grand hall, spanning wall to wall. The room was full, and more people flooded out the door in order to watch the unity take place. Clarke stood alone on stage alongside Marcus Kane and her mother. Each tribe would have two representatives stand with them, as if for strength. Clarke had chosen Kane as her second; for he was the closest thing she had to a father. He was kind, intelligent and fascinated with Trikru culture. He had helped immensely in the preparation for the wedding.

 

The murmurs grew louder, swelling above the room as Clarke tried to pinpoint their reasonings. She was just about to lean over to Kane to question why they were getting so loud when she saw him. He walked through the center of the crowd, parting it easily as he passed. He wore a coat of furs and a stern expression that sent a chill to Clarke’s core. Bellamy was strong, anyone could see that simply from the way he commanded a room. He reached the stage in a few quick strides and climbed it alongside Octavia and Anya. 

 

Heda, the man she was to marry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still trying to figure out how to format on this site. Also, it will certainly pick up soon, I promise!


	3. I've been trying to lay my head down-Bellamy

It was a struggle to push through the crowd towards the stage, as they had fanned about him and embraced their Heda. A young girl clung to him as he passed, her tiny fist grabbing at his cloak. She was only about 3, and yet had quite the grip on his garment. After glancing at her brother, Octavia bent down with a laugh and offered the girl a flower in exchange for letting go of the Heda’s wedding attire. The girl quickly agreed and waved as they finally passed.

More young children reached out as Bellamy passed, all reaching to touch the soft furs of the cloak. The furs were far more extravagant and unnecessary than everyday wear, so their fascination was understandable. Finally, Bellamy reached the alter and climbed alongside Octavia. He gave a curt nod to Clarke’s mother and a flash of a grin towards his bride-to-be. Octavia nudged his arm, as if signaling he still had something to do, resulting in a playful eye roll to his sister. Although she was commander of the grounder army, she could still find ways to push his buttons the same way she did when they were young. 

“I didn’t forget.” He said, reaching into his cloak for the gift box for Clarke.

He crossed the stage in a few short strides to hand over the gift. Clarke took it gratefully and produced one of her own, wrapped neatly in brown paper and drawn over with charcoal designs. 

“Yu laik meizen.” He whispered as he accepted the package. 

It was Trigedasleng for ‘You are beautiful’. Unsure if Clarke even knew how to speak his native tongue, he rephrased himself. 

“You look very nice.” Was what he came up with.

Her musical laugh was enough to put his nerves at ease in an instant. She shook her head and laughed again. It was a beautiful sound, lilting and clear. The sound was one he’d greatly like to hear again. 

“Strange, I was going to say the same about you. Except not so much meizen, more along the lines of ‘os’” She said, leaning in to make sure he was the only one who would hear.

It was his turn to laugh. Yu laik os was far less formal, translating to something close to ‘you look good.’ It was more slang, something young grounder boys would use as a pickup line. However, out of her mouth it was entirely endearing. In this moment, Bellamy could see a future. He could teach Clarke his language, and in exchange, she could teach him to paint. It was wishful, childish thinking, but it was pleasant. 

The moment was interrupted by the flamekeeper clearing his throat. He was a tall man, and towered over Clarke, who jumped at the sound. Bellamy quickly composed himself, nodding to the man. 

“We are ready.” He confirmed to the flamekeeper.

The man raised his voice to reach the entire crowd. He was instructed to speak English to accommodate the Skaikru as well. 

“The carnage of our peoples ends today, with this union of Trikru and Skaikru. In an effort to mend broken ties, Heda will be joined with Clarke Griffin as one solid figure. They will together battle oncoming problems rather than each other.” He summarized the purpose of the marriage quickly. 

Grounders weren’t known to be people of many words or elegant speeches. The time for speeches would be at the party later on, when the lips were loosened from alcohol. 

The flamekeeper raised a chalice, the one passed through each wedding. It was a never-ending string connecting each grounder wedding. And now it would pass through Skaikru as well. The man filled the cup with a dark red liquid. Bellamy had only tasted it once before, but he knew from the smell that it was no pleasant drink.

“You will both drink from the cup. You promise to remain loyal to those you are tied to. To honor this bond just as each and every Trikru before has honored theirs. You promise to leave nothing in this village but your decay when you pass. You promise-“ Suddenly the flamekeeper’s gaze met Clarke’s. His eyes were steely and cold. “To protect and honor Heda.” He finished the speech. The same speech was told in every wedding, sans the final line.

He handed the chalice to Clarke, who took it with both hands. As she lifted the cup to her lips, blue eyes met brown and Bellamy held her gaze as she took a swig. It was clearly unpleasant, but Clarke remained sober, hardly flinching as it went down. Bellamy took the chalice and did the same. The drink was tart and incredibly strong, wore than grounder medication. He swallowed it quickly, but not before catching Clarke’s gaze again. She was smirking, painted lips quirking up as if she were amused. He handed the cup back to the flamekeeper. The man exchanged the cup for a curved dagger. It was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, and glinted against the candlelight. It was time to remove Clarke’s chip. His line of sight shifted from the weapon to Clarke’s face. She didn’t look worried or afraid. Instead, she gave him a smile and covered the knife with her own hand. “It’s okay, go ahead.” She said, sweeping her hair to the side and turning her back to Bellamy.

The part of her neck that was exposed had a small scar, just below her ear. The skin around it was pink and although the scar was slightly faded, the skin was still rougher in that patch. 

The knife was a steady weight, grounding Bellamy to this moment in time. Harming others was never his forte, and doing so in front of all his people would be increasingly difficult. However, he knew this was a tradition in Skaikru culture. The knife somehow felt even heavier as Bellamy raised it to Clarke’s neck. With one quick sweep, he had reopened the scar. Clarke’s breath hitched slightly, but she didn’t flinch. 

“Sorry.” He murmured, catching sight of a silver disk.

The chip slid out easily, and there wasn’t too much blood from the wound. Octavia handed him a small white cloth and he pressed it to Clarke’s neck. She turned and gave him a reassuring smile, and the crowd erupted into applause. 

“Skaikru and Trikru, I pronounce you one!” The flamekeeper shouted to be heard over the roars of the crowd. The two nations were wed. Clarke was his wife. A weight was lifted off his chest. That is- until a gunshot sounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliff hanger??? Tell me what ya think is gonna happen!


	4. But I'm writing this at 3 AM- Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this chapter is super short, I'm currently planning out the next few chapters right now. However, please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoy!

The shot echoed through the hall, ripping through the air and disrupting any sense of peace Clarke had. The moment was torn away, and it was as if time stood still. Her ears still rang, but everything around her moved almost comically slow. Clarke’s gaze swept over the crowd to try to locate the source of the sound. Many people had gone into a crouch, with hands clapped over their ears as if to protect themselves from the noise. 

Rather than contemplate her actions, Clarke flew down the steps of the stage and into the thick of the crowd, where a high-pitched shriek was sounding over the commotion. The first thing Clarke noticed were his hands. Hands, covered in blood as red as the wine grounders made and as dark as night. Hands she once held, and hands that once held her. It was Finn. He held one of the guns that they had found in the bunker. The metal glinted against the dim lights and Clarke felt her resolve crumble. The gun had been fired in the air, not at anyone. However, for grounders who were unfamiliar with guns, the shot proved quite a shock. Guns were strictly forbidden. Breaking any grounder law was punishable by death. 

Strange enough, no one seemed to be injured. As Clarke glanced around the room, people were frightened and some crying, but no one was hurt. Which raised the questions; who's blood was on Finn's hands? The question asked more than it answered. Her heart sank almost immediately.

“What did you do?” Clarke demanded, her voice hardly above a whisper.

It seemed to be enough though. Finn crumpled to his knees and shook his head in a feeble answer. Every line of his face was etched with anger. Anger, and beneath the surface, fear. Within seconds, two larger grounder men grabbed Finn under his arms and hoisted him back up, dragging him out of the room. He kicked and flailed, desperate to escape their grasp. Clarke’s eyes followed him the entire way, and she watched as Raven darted out of the room after him.

The commotion quickly died down as the threat was removed, and Clarke was ushered back to the stage by Octavia. Her grip was firm as she pulled Clarke back up the stairs. She was grateful for the firmness, though. The slight twinge of pain grounded her. She needed an anchor now more than ever as her mind spiraled about what would happen to her former boyfriend. It was a difficult situation, and had all happened quite suddenly. Clarke could see on Bellamy’s face; he was none too happy with this disturbance.

“What are they going to do?” She asked him.

His brow was furrowed, clearly deep in thought.

“Whatever they must.”


	5. I don't need the world to see

As Finn was carried away, the roar of the crowd rose and eyes turned to Heda. Finn was removed from the ceremony and Bellamy would now reap the destruction of chaos he had conducted. The flame keeper and Octavia, who drew the couple back to their positions on stage, forcibly restored order. Clarke was clearly distraught, her once bright and cunning eyes now reflecting the fear he himself had buried deep. In contrast, Bellamy remained stone cold. His expression was a mask, betraying nothing of the panic he harbored. 

“Shof op!” Bellamy shouted over the crowd. His voice was gruff but his message of silence carried through the hall and the room fell into a tense hush. 

“The ceremony is not yet finished.” Bellamy elaborated, eyeing the crowd, as if daring them to interrupt his wedding one more time. The room remained silent, so he turned his attention back to Clarke and the Flamekeeper. The man took a moment to regain his composure, but quickly began speaking once he got a hold of himself.

“Alright, you may open each other’s gifts before the private ceremony.” He explained, eyeing the box beneath Clarke’s arm. The girl took this as incentive to open hers first. Although still entirely shaken, she decided it would be best to put on a brave face and get through this so she could figure out what was going out beyond these protective walls.

The gift was wrapped neatly, and she peeled the recycled paper off easily and opened the box. Inside were assorted pots of what looked like paint. Momentarily, she was outside the ceremony, outside the bonds of Earth and just a girl back on the arc.

As a child, stealing was heavily frowned upon, especially as an official’s daughter. Clarke knew this. It’d been instilled in her since birth. Her mother and father had both always explained that they had all the necessities, and needed nothing more. And for a long time, Clarke truly believed that. She believed sustenance and family was all she’d ever need. However, as she grew older, Clarke noticed that coloring on a security issued notebook, with rough recycled paper and an over sharpened pencil was simply not enough. She wanted more. She wanted to paint murals and extravagant pieces as she’d seen in her history book. She wanted more. 

So on the day of her sixteenth birthday, her mother had traded a family watch for a small tube of paint. There was only one color, and it was black. It was a tiny gift, but Clarke cherished it for years. She would mix water with the acrylic to make it last longer, even if it made the paint thin. She loved the feeling of spreading the inky substance over any surface she could find; often times on her arms and legs, hiding it beneath her plainclothes. 

“Clarke? Do you like it?” Bellamy questioned, a brow quirked in question. 

Pushing back her overwhelming sea of emotion, Clarke nodded. “I love it, thank you.” She handed the box to Octavia to hold and then nodded to Bellamy’s gift. 

“I guess it’s your turn now.” She said, trying to ignore her nerves about the entire situation. Not only was she still reeling from the entire Finn situation, but she was now forced to deal with that distress later on and pull off a brave façade. 

Bellamy nodded and cleared his throat, peeling back the more decorative wrapping from Clarke’s gift. Upon seeing the English textbook, Bellamy’s eyes widened marginally. On the front the words ‘European History’ were in faded black ink. Although clearly dated, the book was in good condition. Bellamy met Clarke’s gaze and shook his head. 

“How did you get this? I don’t understand.” He said.

Clarke merely gave a small smile and shrugged. “The arc has its resources.” She explained briefly. Bellamy hardly had a moment to cherish the gift before Octavia took it along with Clarke’s. They’d both be placed in Heda’s estate for safe keeping during wedding festivities. And such, Clarke and Bellamy were to transition to the private ceremony. 

\------  
The meeting place for the private ceremony was almost comically small. It was no bigger than a tree house, and was in fact, high in a tree. A ladder had been built for an easier climb, but the physical exertion was still intense in their decadent clothes.

As the newly weds reached the top, Bellamy slid to one side of the room, while Clarke positioned herself on the floor of the opposing side. Although they were now married, the two were still virtual strangers. 

In the middle of the room sat a clear bowl full of water, a cloth, and a wide toothed comb painted to resemble a sea of flowers. Upon seeing all this, Bellamy barked out a quick laugh. He couldn’t help it. The precarious set up was farcical, especially since grounders weren’t known to be people of eloquence. He picked up the bowl and handed it to Clarke. 

“You’re supposed to wash my face paint.” He said simply, scooting towards her to allow her easier access to wash. 

She paused a moment before dipping the cloth in the water and slowly working at the lines painted over Bellamy’s cheeks. It was silent for a good five minutes before she finally decided to speak up and question their circumstances. 

“What’s going to happen to Finn?” She asked, eyes full of concern for a fellow Skaikru.

Although it had never been made explicit, Bellamy knew that Clarke and Finn had formerly had a relationship. It caused his gut to twist and his ears to feel hot when he thought about them together. His expression soured a minuscule amount, and he took a deep breath.

“Well, he’ll most likely be imprisoned.” He answered, chewing his bottom lip to stop himself from continuing. It would only upset her.

But Clarke was a smart girl, and she knew he was holding back. 

“And then what?” She asked.

“And then-“ Bellamy began, unable to look her in the eyes now. It was clear he didn’t agree with the grounder process in this instance. “Then he’ll probably be killed. That’s just how it is.” He said, shrugging with a false air of nonchalance. 

The bowl of water was thrown into his face, soaking him thoroughly. He blinked away the droplets and stared at Clarke in shock. “What the hell was that for?!”

Clarke had her jaw set, clearly angry. 

“You’re their Heda! Can’t you do anything?” She demanded.

“Blood must have blood, Sky Girl. That is the way of Trikru.” He explained, an edge to his tone now. Although he too disagreed with the ways, he had no idea why she was so angry with him.

Clarke set the bowl down and shook her head. 

“You don’t even know what he did. You don’t know anything yet.” She said, voice rising to a shout. 

Bellamy let out a humorless chuckle. “You really think I care about your boyfriend? You saw the blood on his hands! Blood does not come from anything but pain!” He was angry, and allowed the words to just slip out. Clearly, it was the wrong thing to say, for Clarke stood quickly and turned to leave. Her shoulders were set and her gaze hard. 

“I thought you were a good man.” She said.

Bellamy rose as well, standing his ground. These weren’t his rules, and he certainly was not going to compromise a treaty for his people by letting Clarke walk away. 

“Well do you have any better ideas? Ideas that won’t get me dethroned or killed along with him?” He demanded, searching for any solution.

Clarke sank back to the floor.

“I don’t know, there has to be something.” Her shoulders had begun to shake and Bellamy realized she was crying.

“Oh shit.” He muttered, kneeling beside her on the floor and wrapping an arm around her.

“Hey, hey. It’s going to be alright.” He said, voice soft in attempts to comfort her.

He’d never been in this situation before. Octavia wasn’t an emotional child, and Bellamy had never had a girlfriend before now. Frankly, he had no idea what to do when someone began crying. His best bet was to simply be there.

“He won’t suffer. That isn’t our way.” He attempted to console.

They sat in silence for a while, and Clarke’s tears slowly ebbed and her shoulders stopped shaking. Finally, she was silent altogether. 

“Do you want to go back down to the party?” Bellamy asked, knowing they had to make another appearance soon.

Clarke sat up, wiping her eyes one last time and putting on a brave face. She nodded.

“Let’s save the vows for later, maybe when we know each other a bit more.” Her voice was soft but she seemed more consoled by the fact that Bellamy would be searching for an alternative to Finn’s fate.

And as they both sat there in the newfound silence, Bellamy began unbraiding Clarke’s hair, and she soon picked up the still damp cloth and finished wiping the pain off Bellamy’s face. 

Although circumstances may have divided them, they would be united under change, and under chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter! It was a bit longer. I know things are going slow, but I promise it'll pick up soon!

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy this work, please give it some love, and comment if you'd like!


End file.
